These Are The Nights
by Xyliette
Summary: Addison and Mark fluff about an expectant arrival, ironing and the beach. Mark/Addison.


A/N: So, I had prompts for this but my muse refused to settle with anything, therefore, Hannah I think you shall see that they are all included without reason. This is pure fluff and I don't even know what I was on when I wrote it but I do hope you enjoy!

_-----  
Our bodies to hand with the Jersey shoreline  
Connecting the tide to the sand that was dry  
And we both laid entwined, stared at the night  
Clouds overhead, but that was all right  
'Cause then and there with the wind in your hair  
Heaven was jealous to merely look fair against you  
And all I need now is for this moon to keep light in its desolate skyline for good  
…  
'Cause these are the nights that you know when you're there  
You couldn't have planned it much better I swear  
And you hope that your senses aren't failing you now  
And you think to yourself now I could be wrong  
But I might have just stolen this scene from a song and you know  
That your senses aren't failing you now  
But they're slipping away  
-Making April, "These Are The Nights"  
-----_

"Addison!" Mark shouts dropping his coat by the door and peeking his head around the corner into the living room where she has set up shop. "What are you doing?"

She holds up the small piece of fabric and shrugs, "Ironing."

"Why?" He asks disgusted. Though household chores are not his thing he has been known to help from time to time.

"It's calming."

"You're nesting. This place is insanely clean. I can see the floors. No more days off for you." He gives her a quick wink and she knows exactly what is coming next. Twenty seconds later she is somehow torn away from the project and straddling his lap stroking his tongue with hers.

"How was work?" She asks pulling back and slowing down.

"Good, good. How are my girls?" He asks rubbing the stomach that she is still dead positive contains a boy despite what the third ultrasound said last week. She's going to be right until the baby is born in two months, she's determined.

"Fine, hungry though." She clambers off his lap and stumbles into the kitchen leaving him to play catch up. Leaning up against the counter he watches her peruse the refrigerator, bending over just enough so that he can see the small purple butterfly tattoo centered on her lower back. That was a fun hangover, what with her beating the hell out of his head with a shoe when she discovered the payment for the lost bet, and all.

"There's nothing." She turns around tugging on the white tank top and wrinkling her nose to his delight. He happens to think it's amazingly adorable, yet adorable goes to cranky and bitchy in about zero to three seconds when it isn't fed.

"Phonebook." He states tossing it her way.

"Phonebook," she mutters flipping through the pages and calling off items waiting for a reply, "Chinese?"

"No, not in the mood for that." He replies hastily knowing his stomach isn't looking for anything greasy and potentially not actually animal related after a long day of surgeries.

"Pizza?"

"We had that yesterday and Monday now that I think about it."

She drops it to the counter and sticks her head back to look at the contents of a nearly empty refrigerator. "I could make sandwiches." She smiles.

"What? My wife? Cook something?"

"It's not cooking." She slaps his chest in mock upset and he grabs her wrists kissing her firmly before releasing her. "We need to eat now. You want mustard?" She grins biting her lip and he nods. "Ok, I'm making sandwiches. You grab a beer, oh and bottle of water and the Oreos…don't forget them, and meet me in the living room."

"Forget the Oreos? How could I? They take up four complete cabinets." He grabs a full fresh package of cookies, his beer and two bottles of water before stumbling into the next room and turning on the history channel. They'll be relaxed in no time as long as Addison doesn't find the subject matter too interesting; she's got a weird thing for history that he happens to find a big turn on. He never thought he'd fall for a smart girl.

Hours later snuggled up under the warm red blanket he strokes the soft skin where Addison's shirt has bunched up. He feels his daughter tap lightly against his hand and feels the warmth spread through his chest like wildfire. "I love you." He whispers. He probably doesn't say it enough but she is amazing in dealing with it all and takes his proclamations in stride.

"I love you too Mark and…I think she likes you better than me." She returns letting the exhaustion creep into her voice.

"What makes you say that?" He watches the fire crackle and thinks about how lucky he is given their history.

"Well all she ever does for me is pounce on my bladder, jab me in the ribs and jump around when I am in the middle of surgery but when you talk to her, and don't dispute that- I hear you at night when you think I'm asleep, she calms down and stops flipping for however long you'll ramble on. It's weird and I think I kind of hate you for it."

"You aren't allowed to claim that you hate me until the delivery room, we agreed."

She snuggles into his chest a little farther and takes a long, deep breath. "Right, well I'm apologizing in advance for whatever I say in there. Know that I don't mean it."

"I'm sure we'll be just fine." He assures her and pulls the blanket up a little higher when she shivers.

"Yeah." She nods drowsily.

"We should go to bed." He explains clumsily clicking off the lamp above his head with his left hand.

"I like it here."

"Yeah well you aren't going to like it here at three in the morning when you can't find the bathroom because you're too disoriented and I'm not going to like it in the morning when you yell at me for letting you sleep down here."

"You're so smart." She announces inching her way off the couch.

"Hey Add?"

"Hmm?"

"Wanna go to the beach this weekend? I'm off, you're off. This could be our last fling. You know, because of our baby girl."

"Boy." She counters.

"Honey," he tries slowly, "It's a girl. I know you know that. Let the dream die for now, I'll knock you up again when we get this one under control."

"Oh...gee, thanks Mark."

"You know what I meant." He states giving up on letting her do her own thing and helps her up. At seven months she's cute but growing uncomfortable, anxious and immobile.

"Yeah, I want to go." She smiles into the darkness.

"Good, it's a deal then." They climb the stairs to the room that sits two doors down from the lavender painted nursery and fall asleep safely in one another's arms. Addison's head using Mark's arm as a pillow and him with the full lot of blankets because she gets too hot when she sleeps now. Perfectly imperfect.

**_-----_**

"I told you this was a good idea." He says quietly as they lay on the large blue and green striped blanket below the dark night and the bright stars. The waves lap at the shore calmly and the breeze catches her hair blowing it out of her face and into the sand.

"Actually you said we should go not that it was a good idea."

He sneaks a hand to her side and tickles lightly. "Same thing woman, let me have some glory before you tell me I'm wrong for once. Do you never learn?"

Giggling she calls uncle and gives in, "Fine, fine. Just once though, I have a reputation."

"And what reputation would that be Dr. Montgomery-Sloan?" He asks coyly snaking a hand under her shirt and reaching up.

"Watch yourself. You don't want my wrath." She extracts his hand intertwining their fingers and lets them fall to her stomach where their daughter has decided to practice gymnastics.

"She's trying to bust out." He laughs.

"She's driving me crazy."

"You drive me crazy."

"Yeah, I know." They fall silent watching the blinking red lights of a helicopter or plane mix in with the white glow of constellations. Rolling onto his side he perches his head up on his hand and watches her wordlessly. "You're staring."

"You're beautiful." He replies.

It's simple and makes her heart want to explode because she has no idea why he loves her especially right now when she looks like she swallowed a beach ball and is wearing ankle weights. "Thank you." She blushes.

"Remember that one year and we went to Cleaver's Halloween party?"

"Yeah." She retorts confused by the non-bridge into odd conversation.

"And you wore that hat?"

"It was a Cowboy hat Mark, I went as-"

"I know and you made me dress up in overalls and a ratty old plaid shirt."

"Well, we had to match." She explains cautiously unsure of whether or not this is going to backfire.

"I think I loved you even then." He declares feeling nostalgic.

"That was like our second date." She tries to roll over but instead settles for turning her head and making eye contact.

"I know." With that he scoots closer, draping an arm over her stomach and kissing her neck.

Chuckling she dare, "Ok. That was random and I am the Queen of random-"

"It just came to me, the way your hair is all…tangled and matted. I dunno. You looked the same for a second. I had a flashback."

"That was five years ago." She refocuses her eyes to the stars and feels the warm breeze blow sand particles onto her skin.

"Well you're just as beautiful now as you were then."

"With my tangled hair?" She jokes.

"Addison you know what I meant."

"Yeah." Quietly they watch the night pass them by. "Thank you for this. I needed relaxing and quiet and fresh air."

"I never thought I would hear you say that you liked the outdoors, where is a tape recorder when I need one?"

"Ha-ha, very funny."

"Why yes I am." He smirks reattaching his lips to her neck and slowly moving toward the weak spot behind her ear.

"Mark-"

"Wanna have some beach sex before we become old cranky parents?"

She rolls her eyes just long enough for his hand to wiggle down to her pants and realizes he isn't kidding. Checking both sides of them she gives in without protesting too loudly.

**_-----_**

"Ten fingers, ten toes and a head full of red hair. She's perfect!" Mark gabs into the phone to her mother. "Oh right…umm hang on." He turns back to where Addison is sitting half perched upright, half awake and holding a nursing newborn. "Add, how much did she weigh oh, and how…long- or is it tall…I don't know…is she?"

Since the pain medication is starting wear off and she'd rather not recount the horrible details of labor she tells Mark to tell her mother that they will call her back in the morning with every ridiculous detail of her first and only grandchild. He closes the phone, slides it onto the table next to her and plops down into the chair careful not to move his right hand. "The chief is going to be pissed when he finds out that you actually fractured two of my fingers."

"They aren't broken." She scoffs and brushes a few wisps of fuzzy hair back on her daughter's head. She's got her mother's hair, father's eyes and an unmatched appetite for which Addison is extremely grateful. She's heard far too many breastfeeding horror stories.

"I think I know broken and these," he asserts raising the three fingers that are taped together, "are broken."

"You're a pussy. Try pushing this thing out of your body, why don't you?" She states flippantly and points to the now sleeping girl before handing her over to her father.

"Hey there baby girl, you need a name…but Mommy is stubborn and would only pick boy names so we're shit out of luck- I mean out of luck- don't swear, it's bad and offensive..." He drags on grasping her slightly unsure and scared before bracing her tiny form against his chest securely. "It's like riding a bike." He exclaims proudly.

"You have other children?" She asks losing the battle to keep her eyes open.

"No." He replies dumbfounded.

"The saying implies- never mind…" Her voice trails off and the last thing she sees is her strong husband looking bizarre with a tiny baby, whose white hat is half on and half off, spitting up all over her shirt. She grins and succumbs to the sleep that has been beckoning her for months.

**_-----_**

"Addison!" Comes the aggravated voice which is assuredly jabbing her in the side as well.

"What?" She replies opening her eyes and looking for the baby, listening for her cries. They aren't there.

"You're snoring." Derek hounds frustrated before flipping back over to his stomach.

"Sorry." She gapes quietly and adjusts to the room around her. She's in a hotel; over used artwork and a hideous phone occupy the room. She can hear the beach not far off and when she looks to the opposite side of the room she knows the dancing masquerade is over. It was all a dream.

"It's okay." He replies quietly and scoots over to cuddle. "Sorry I snapped. You know how I get when I'm woken up." He murmurs into her neck and falls back asleep quickly.

Finally it registers. Her painful white heels are sitting by the door, the very ones she was so proud of finding months ago because they matched the dress and the outfit for the plane not to mention the lingerie that lies scattered across the room. Honeymoon, Hawaii, husband, Derek. She inhales as her chest constricts when the morning light peeks in under the curtains hours later. After she stayed awake all night thinking about the dream that was so vivid it was like a hallucination, she knows.

She knows she just made the worst mistake of her life.

**_-----_**

* * *


End file.
